


How To Make Marriage Work

by pasiphile



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Fluff, discworld ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasiphile/pseuds/pasiphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sacharissa Cripslock interviews the Vimeses for a puff piece on How to Make Marriage Work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Make Marriage Work

'No.'

'But Sam - '

'I said _no._ '

A heavy silence fell. Vimes focused on the papers in front of him, because he just knew that if he looked up now at Sybil's pleading expression he'd give in.

'Sybil, a marriage is private business. It is, in fact, the most private of all businesses. Everything should stay between the two people involved.' And here Vimes' mind prompted him with one of the stranger cases of last week. 'Or possibly the three people involved. Anyway, I'm not going to share where I hang my dressing gown or, or what sort of pet names I give you - '

'You don't give me pet names.'

'Exactly. I'd never hear the end of it. So sorry, dear, but no.' He turned a page.

'Sam.'

This time he did look up, 'cause that was Sybil's Wife Voice. The this-is-important-to-me voice. He could hear her putting her foot down.

'It's just a stupid article,' he said weakly. 'Why is this...?'

Sybil's mouth thinned. She looked up at the ceiling, at her hands, out of the window. Oh damn, he'd made her sad. He couldn't stand it when Sybil was sad.

'For years,' she said softly, 'people told me that I was never going to marry. That if I wanted a husband, I'd have to hunt for one myself and keep him tied up in the basement. Or that I'd have to buy one.' She smiled, a sad little smile, and Vimes felt a sudden flaming need to hurt someone. 'It isn't a very nice thing to hear, when you're thirteen years old.' She took a deep breath and smiled again, only this time it was more nasty than sad. 'And I suppose it's childish of me, but this article would be a way of proving all those people wrong. That yes, I can have a husband, and a marriage, and a very lovely one too.'

She looked at Vimes, and he looked back. Her eyes were a little wet.

'Fine. _Fine,_ tell Miss Cripslock to drop by, and I'll talk about tea-cosies and curtains and nappy duties and whatever she wants.'

'Thank you, Sam.' She kissed him on the cheek, and, well, she was right. As far as marriages went, this really was a good one.

***

_Sunday morning, nine o'clock. As I walk down the drive to the impressive Ramkin mansion, I am greeted by squawks and roars from the swamp dragons. Before she became Mrs. Vimes, Sybil Ramkin was after all best known as a breeder of prize dragons, a hobby she still practices today._

_The door is opened by a grizzled butler, who leads me to a green-painted drawing room and politely informs me that 'the Commander and Lady Sybil will be down shortly.'_

_A few minutes later the door opens and Ankh-Morpork's richest, most famous and perhaps most controversial couple steps through the door, bickering quietly. I hear the words 'tights' and 'effort', which give some indication to the subject of the argument: Samuel Vimes' dislike of formal wear is notorious._

_They sit down opposite of me. Lady Sybil smiles politely and offers me tea and a biscuit, while His Grace Commander Sir Samuel Vimes crosses his arms and, to all intents and purposes, sulks._

_I fire off my first question._

_***_

'Trust,' Sybil said decisively. 'The key to a lasting marriage is definitely trust. Trusting that your husband will be sensible and careful when you're not there to keep an eye on things.'

Vimes coughed. He should have never agreed with the whole blasted thing.

'And love, of course,' she said, taking Vimes' hand. Damn the woman.

'You both lead very busy lives,' Miss Cripslock said. 'It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that you, Lady Sybil, are the hub of Ankh-Morpork's high society, and the Commander of course spends an impressively large amount of hours to keeping Ankh-Morpork safe for all law-abiding citizens.'

Vimes snorted. Miss Cripslock continued, unfazed. 'Which doesn't leave much private time, I can imagine. How do you cope with that?'

'We have strict rules. Don't we, Sam?'

Sybil turned to her husband with an expecting look. Vimes sighed. 'Yes, we do.'

'Can you give an example?' Miss Cripslock asked eagerly.

He looked at Sybil. She squeezed his hand. 'Oh, fine. When Young Sam was younger, we agreed that there would be one moment that I would be home to read to my son, no matter what. Six o'clock.' He shrugged.

'Ah, so that would be why many of Ankh-Morpork's citizens have wild stories of Sam Vimes running across rooftops or commandeering carriages around half past five?' She jotted something down in her notebook. 'Interesting. Now, with those busy lives you lead, as well as a young son to look after, is there still room for intimacy in your relationship?'

Vimes spluttered, 'I really don't think that's any of your business,' at the same time that Sybil smiled brightly and said, 'Ah, one mustn't underestimate the importance of sex in married life.'

Vimes turned to his wife, feeling his colour rise. 'Sybil, I am _not going to discuss our sex life with the bloody newspaper_ ,' he hissed.

'So you do still have a sex life?' Miss Cripslock asked, leaning forward eagerly.

Vimes whirled around. 'What the hell is that supposed to mean?'

Sybil laid a calming hand on his knee. 'All that needs to be said is that we still find time to share all of the important things.'

Vimes sat back, crossing his arms again. Maybe he could find some excuse to raid the printing press of the Times. It couldn't be that hard, surely?

'Many people were surprised when you announced the engagement, considering you come from very different backgrounds. Does that ever cause friction between the two of you?'

'You mean, does the fact that I hate and detest the aristocracy upset Sybil?'

Miss Cripslock smiled. 'Does it, Your Grace?'

Vimes narrowed his eyes. Sybil squeezes his knee and hissed, 'Sam, behave,' at him.

***

_Just as the silence is getting uncomfortable, the moment is saved when a charming young boy bursts into the room._

_'Dad, dad, I - ' he yells, brimming with youthful exuberance, but as soon as he spots yours truly he skids to a halt. 'Oh, hullo,' he says, eyes wide with curiosity. 'I'm Sam. Who are you?' He extends a hand and I shake it politely, introducing myself._

_'Oh, so you're the lady Dad calls - '_

_But I do not get to hear what Samuel Vimes calls your humble correspondent. 'Sam,' Lady Sybil snaps, 'Where's Chastity?'_

_The door opens again and a harrassed-looking young woman comes in, apologizing profusely. As she drags the boy out of the room, I am struck by the Commander and Lady Sybil's matching proud, affectionate looks._

_'He seems like a very intelligent boy,' I venture._

_***_

'He is. Got the brains from Sybil, if you ask me.'

'Nonsense.' Sybil gave him a playful swat. 'Don't sell yourself short, dear. But he is a handful, sometimes.'

'Very _active_.'

'But bright.'

'A bit too bright, sometimes.'

'And kind, too. Always so concerned about other people's welfare.'

'And animals, too.'

'He must have an interesting future ahead of him,' Miss Cripslock said. 'The heir to Ankh-Morpork's largest fortune, the last descendent of a family older than dirt, not to mention the godson of arguably the most powerful man on the Disc. Are you aware that many people are watching Young Sam very keenly?'

'They can watch him all they like, we're not going to pressure him to do anything he doesn't want to do,' Vimes said firmly.

'Exactly. He'll make his own choices. And we can only hope that they turn out to be good ones.'

'We just want him to be happy.' Vimes looked at his wife, and then he turned to Miss Cripslock. 'You know, for forty years my life was pretty miserable. But looking at what I have now, a wonderful son, and amazing wife who loves me and, and - ' He took a deep breath, 'who I love too, well, that's more than I deserve.'

'Oh, Sam,' Sybil said softly. 'You do deserve it, dear. You really do.'

They laced their fingers together.

***

_As I leave the mansion, I can't help but think of the Vimeses. A marriage doomed to fail, that was the common opinion when the engagement was first announced. There was no way it could ever work. But what I saw today were two admittedly very different people who nevertheless found a common ground, in their love for each other and their son. Two people who despite all setbacks and difficulties built a life around respect and trust._

_A marriage to last._


End file.
